


it has will

by wearethewitches



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Light Angst, Pain, Smut, Soulmates, Superpowers, Time Travel Fix-It, Top Michael, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-04 09:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: The Spark is the beginning – the hand on the door testing the give. Michael Burnham and Christopher Pike are soulmates and they can feel it.-or, that soulmate au missesiamout asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missesiamout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missesiamout/gifts).



 

**ONE**

_Then I owe you a simile, Commander._

It starts with static. There’s a tingle when he nears, tiny _snaps_ that Michael can’t hear unless it’s quiet. She knows what it is – though she wonders if Captain Pike has realised who exactly he’s interacting with. The Spark is the universe’s way of testing the boundaries – testing compatibility and setting people apart from one another.

Michael never liked Lorca and she remembers that _fear_ she felt, when he told her in his ready room, _there’s a Spark between us._ She’d thought herself wrong and damaged for not feeling it, because no-one lies about these things. How could they, when they’re reciprocal? But Lorca lied to her – and if he ever felt a Spark between himself and Michael’s counterpart, then that has nothing to do with Michael herself.

 _She’s my soulmate!_ Lorca had yelled in that Terran universe. _Michael, in every universe, is **mine**!_ The Emperor didn’t take that well and neither had Michael, in the end. She is not someone to be owned. But it’s been her bad luck that the only person she’s ever felt the Spark with turned out to be a Klingon in disguise and when Tyler remembered his life as Voq…that Spark burned them both.

Christopher Pike takes over the _Discovery_. The red signals are the priority and Michael pretends that she keeps an eye on him out of paranoia – not because the static is continual, not because the Spark seems _excited_.

Once, Michael had questioned the truth of the Spark and what comes after. Why let _static_ rule your future?

“It is not just static,” Sarek had instructed her. “It is the reconnection of similar atoms. They recognise their kin, as it were, though time has changed them and they are not always compatible anymore. The Spark is more than just foolish wishing and yearning; it is a function of the universe. Humans call them _soulmates._ On Vulcan, we call them _T’hy’la_.”

It starts with static.

Then Christopher Pike comes back for her on the asteroid, and the static turns into _heat_. Where the captain’s hands press against her spacesuit, she can feel it all the way through to her skin like a brand and it is far, _far_ hotter than the molten shrapnel in her leg. The shock, the former events on the asteroid and the black rock distract her from it, however.

Later, when her leg is healed and she’s walking about, she goes to the ready room – _Pike’s_ ready room, now. He wears the _Discovery_ uniform well, though Michael thinks she liked the gold better.

“I like my officers to feel like they can pull up a chair and speak freely,” he says after they discuss the lack of furniture. He shifts, throwing down an old fortune onto the table and coming to stand beside her. “Why don’t we get out of here?” he asks.

His shoulder brushes Michael’s. The heat makes them both hiss in pain, jumping back.

They stare at each other.

“…sir,” Michael swallows, mimicked by Pike as he slowly straightens, wary.

“Commander,” he mutters. “That…I didn’t imagine that, did I?”

“It changed on the asteroid, when-” Michael glances away briefly. “When you came back for me. You feel it too.”

Pike nods shortly, staring at her. “I do,” he says. “It’s not a Spark anymore.”

“No,” Michael agrees. “It’s the Fire.”

* * *

The Spark. The Fire. The Settling. Three distinct phases of a cycle that has gone on between hundreds of trillions of people since the dawn of time. The Spark is the beginning – the hand on the door testing the give. You can meet many people throughout your lifetime with whom you have a Spark, but few go on to be the one that turns it into the Fire.

The Fire is their proverbial souls – their atoms and molecules – fighting to be together again as one. It hurts them and it will last only as long as they fight it. But even if they don’t fight it, both Michael and Chris – as he’s offered for her to call him, off-duty – have to stay close together. The Fire won’t stop without contact – yet with contact comes pain.

Terrible, nightmare-worthy, hotter-than-a-star _pain._

“Best rip it off like a band-aid,” Chris offers with a weak smile, but neither of them are laughing. Michael has yet to visit _Enterprise_ – she will do it in the proverbial morning, after the Fire has died. So, the day goes on and when the time comes for rest, Michael curls up opposite Chris on a bed that used to be Captain Lorca’s.

“It won’t go away, if we don’t do something, Christopher,” she whispers, their knees brushing. They both shy away from each other briefly and both know this isn’t something they can push off. There is a directive that must be followed – a mission they must complete. Michael is a member of the bridge crew and often, the away-team and Chris, the captain. Their bond is a liability until the Settling and all the connection that comes with it.

“My mothers could read each other’s thoughts,” Chris tells her. “The two of them were always just doing things to help the other. It was second nature to them.”

“My foster-parents, Spock’s mother and father – they can feel each other’s emotions. Sarek wrote a dissertation on it.”

Chris smiles at her. It’s more genuine than the testing one he gave her in the ready room that afternoon. “I can imagine it. How was it received?”

“Poorly. It’s still very popular, however,” Michael smiles back at him. Their heads rest on pillows and they’re both in plain pyjamas. It’s a privilege to see him out of uniform, though. “Nice arms,” she says to him as he stretches, unashamed.

Chris pauses, glancing at it before looking at her with a perched eyebrow. “Spock’s sister, flirting with me? Now, _that’s_ something I didn’t expect.”

“It was a compliment, not a flirt,” Michael protests and he grins at her.

“Whatever you say, Michael.”

Michael rolls her eyes. A new silence falls, more comfortable than before and she decides that this is it. Chris seems to have the same thoughts and they wait a moment longer before deliberately tangling their limbs together, gasping in pain.

To Michael, it feels like how she imagines lava flowing across bare skin might feel. It’s searing and indescribable – and it makes her relieved inside to know that every room has Settling Protocols, meant for silencing the sounds of their screams.

Their spines arch and their heartbeats are in their ears. Michael forces herself to keep her grip around his torso, even as the Fire burns, never-ending. She can feel something like smoke under her skin, as if she’s an empty husk of skin and she is the smoke – and then she can feel Chris, too, as if he is just smoke and skin as well.

Her mind turns delirious and she disconnects from it all. Michael can feel the hoarseness in her throat and an ache everywhere they touch, but she is nothing. She is floating in the vast emptiness of space. It is silent, yet it is not, a sentence repeating inside her mind over and over.

_Then I owe you a simile, Commander- Then I owe you a simile, Commander- Then I owe you a simile, Commander- Then I owe you a simile, Commander-_

What were her first words to him? Something about a compass – no, about his uniform. _Very colourful_ , she had commented. The brightness of his jumper seemed gaudy and it was all she could say without calling it an eyesore.

Michael awakens the next morning slowly, feeling as if the night had ended the moment the pain began. It’s a phantom memory – like lava scalding her skin. Calling it the Fire is a misnomer. She shudders and hears a low murmur of comfort, an arm wrapped around her torso drawing her closer.

“Christopher?” she opens her eyes slowly.

“Michael,” Chris murmurs, his chin against her forehead. “Good morning…computer, time?”

“ _Beginning of Beta shift, twenty-three minutes._ ”

“Ugh…it’s not even six am,” he groans, sagging and Michael gently disentangles her arms. “Michael?”

“Captain,” she says, her words deliberate and chilling. She sits up, Chris watching her with alert eyes. “We need to get up, now.”

“I gave us both until Gamma shift,” he says, as if it is an excuse. Michael looks away.

 _This cannot happen,_ she thinks. _We might be soulmates, but…_

“Michael,” Chris starts, reaching out a hand in pleading. Michael can feel every movement he makes – that smoke is _awareness_. Of herself, of Chris – it’s a homing beacon. “I can feel you,” he mutters.

“Me too,” Michael whispers. She’ll always know where he is, it seems. “I’m just going to the _Enterprise._ I need to look through Spock’s things.”

“Right,” Chris says, silence falling. Michael pulls her knees up under her arms, resting her chin on them. She wants to go to _Enterprise_ – she _needs_ to go to _Enterprise_. But part of her, a large part of her, wants to stay here with Chris. It makes her anxious, just parting from him here on the bed, let alone putting several thousand kilometres between them.

But it has to be done.

So, she gets off the bed and goes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

Michael collapses inside the turbolift.

Her quarters aren’t too far from the captains. She and Tilly had moved from their old place to nearer the other bridge crew, as Tilly herself had joined the Command Training Program and Michael had been reinstated. As such, when Michael had walked the distance from Chris to her room, the connection hadn’t been so easy to resist, like a stiff coil of rope being forcibly unwound.

In the turbolift, however, Michael now know that simile is incorrect. The Settling has induced a connection not unlike a rubber band – and Michael has stretched it out too far, too soon. It burns like the Fire in her chest, centred around her heart and the crewmember in the turbolift with her catches her as she falls.

“ _Argh!_ ” Michael claws at her chest and she can see Chris in her mind’s eye, cursing violently as he stumbles in the hallway leading away from his quarters.

“Commander Burnham? What’s wrong?” the crewmember questions her, scared. “Turbolift, take us to sickbay, direct!”

“No-” Michael starts, because the sickbay is nearer to the bridge than it is the shuttlebay. The turbolift changes directions and the bond slackens abruptly, only to tighten once more. Michael cries out, back arching off the floor. The lift doors open.

Everything is hazy to Michael, like there’s another world superimposed on her vision. It’s as if she’s Christopher, dragging himself across the floor and choking for breath through the pain. _Sickbay,_ she hears the echo of a thought in his distinct timbre – a word said aloud for everyone to hear, including Michael, who is several floors away.

“-vitals are off the charts-”

“-just collapsed, screaming-”

“What was she doing?” A hand snaps in front of her face, catching her attention. Dr Pollard, the new CMO, meets her gaze. “Commander Burnham, do you know is happening to you?”

Michael can barely focus, the pain intense, like a lance – the turbolift on the deck that holds the captain’s quarters is in the wrong direction. To get closer, Christopher has to go farther. Dr Pollard gives up on getting her to answer after a few more tries, Michael _too_ _stretched out/too far away/a rubber band pulled far enough it might **snap** -_

“-metamorphosis similar to the Settling.” Pollard calls her name sharply, “Burnham! Did you just pass through the Fire with your soulmate?”

Michael manages a whimper. “ _Chris._ ”

“Chris – more like _Christ,_ ” Pollard swears. “Computer, locate Captain Pike, CMO override, Pollard delta six.”

“ _Alpha crew quarters, en route to sickbay._ ”

“Good,” Pollard mutters, pushing away the crewmember who waits nervously at her bedside. “Go to the crew quarters, alpha sector – more than likely, the captain’s in a similar situation.”

“What’s happening to her?”

“She’s _Settling,_ ” Dr Pollard says with a whip-sharp voice. “So is Captain Pike. It’s not finished and they’ve left each other’s sides. Now go get him, before we have two broken officers on our hands – Pyeong, go with him.”

“Yes, sir!”

Michael shakes, body contorting. She reaches out – out, down, to the left of her bio-bed. She can see him through the walls, smoke like her own. He is _too far away._

“We’re getting him, Commander, don’t worry,” Dr Pollard says, before engaging restraints. Michael struggles inside them, her heart beating erratically – painfully _._ “Your heartbeat is off the charts.”

Pollard gives her something and it dulls her reactions, makes it easier to breath even as the pain worsens. Michael sobs, shivering and fidgeting. When the hurting finally begins to ease, Pollard relaxes and the restraints are removed.

The crewmember hauls Chris out of the turbolift, Pyeong reading his vitals with a tricorder and Michael sees herself as they round towards sickbay doors, his arm around the crewmember’s shoulders and Michael there on the bio-bed, tinged grey around the edges. She reaches up and it is disconcerting, seeing it from Christopher’s eyes.

“ _Michael_ ,” he says like a prayer and she slips off the bio-bed, the both of them collapsing against each other, dropping to the floor like cut puppets. They wrap their arms around each other, _needing_ the contact. Their sets of vision blur, their heartbeats beat as one and together, they focus in on the cutting words of Dr Pollard.

“You fools. Do you know nothing of the Settling? You can’t leave each other’s sides for a _week._ ”

“A week?” Michael asks, voice lethargic but no less distressed.

“Did you think it would be as easy as letting the Fire burn out, then walking away? No, Commander,” Pollard scolds and crouches by their sides, scanning them both. “You’re out of phase with each other. Part of the Settling is ensuring that you synchronise and stay separate entities – partial Settling does neither of you any good. Didn’t they teach you this in health class?”

“My parents were more concerned over convincing me it was real,” Michael mutters, Chris snorting in amusement. The action rolls through her and Michael can feel his heavy breathing between their chests, both physically and mentally.

It is strange, so _unlike_ a Vulcan mind meld. That feels like it happens on another plane of existence, while this- _this,_ is a true melding. It’s like he is her and she is him, but distinctly _other_. There will be no mixing up who is who, that is for certain. Michael doesn’t know why the CMO thinks they’ll become one entity.

“How nice that you find this funny,” Dr Pollard says with a sarcastic edge to her voice. “I’m putting you two in the captain’s quarters, indefinitely. You’re to stay in those rooms in isolation for ten days, with me as your only visitor.”

“Doctor, that’s hardly fair,” Chris replies, eyes wide as he lifts his chin from Michael’s shoulder. “Starfleet needs us. The red signals-”

“They’ll wait,” Dr Pollard cuts in. “Take the time to actually understand your bond. You’re right – the mission is important, so use the time off to investigate your Settling. Everyone’s connection is different and you’ve just been through trauma – _twice_.”

“Twice?” they mutter together, getting the stink-eye from the resident Chief Medical Officer.

“Getting through the Fire counts as trauma. It’s a noteworthy mark on either of your records, which I _will_ be updating. Captain Pike, you’ll have to transfer authority over Commander Burnham to another of her superiors.” Pollard pauses, “I really hope I don’t have to explain why.”

“It’s already done,” Chris says wearily. “Commander Saru was…interested to know why, but I informed him it was our own business.”

“Well, it’ll be all over the ship, soon enough,” Pollard remarks, tapping away at her tablet and standing up straight. “You want to get off the floor?”

 _Not really,_ Michael thinks, absurdly uncomfortable with the idea of letting for of Christopher for even a moment. She tries to convince herself the same way she did when she attempted to leave for the _Enterprise_ and it only works long enough for her to try; said attempt immediately being halted by Chris.

Pollard sighs. “Do we have to drag you apart?”

“No,” Chris says, surly. He gets up – pulling Michael with him. His lip twitches, presumably from the smugness of being able to lift her without trouble. Michael finds her feet the next moment, wrapping her hands around his wrist, trying to find some way to counteract her own irrational fear.

 _It’s rational after what happened,_ she hears him think, fleetingly. Michael turns that part of her away because no – _no_ , mind-reading will not be the sort of power she will share with him. She barely knows him.

“Off you go, chop-chop,” Pollard waves them off, towards the exit. “You’re fine now. I’ll come check on you at the end of every shift.”

“Thanks, doc,” Chris offers before they leave, Michael guiding him towards the turbolift.

They travel towards his quarters, becoming more tense by the minute. “I didn’t think it would be like this,” Michael says, strained, as they shuffle into his rooms.

“Neither did I,” he admits.

“It seems we’re stuck together.”

“It seems we are.”

Her hands are still clutched around his wrist, the skin white around her knuckles. They’re so different – Michael’s dark skin against his pale – and yet, so very compatible, if the universe is right about Sparking them together. Michael feels deeply embarrassed by her grasp on him. This is her _captain_. They had an agreement to get through the Fire, but it has all gone wrong.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says softly, free hand rising to brush her jaw. His eyes are such a pretty shade of blue – they remind her of Earth’s sky at night. “It was going to get in the way of things. Pollard’s right.”

“I wish she weren’t,” Michael says, shaking her head. “A week – so long. Why?”

“I’m sure it’ll be in the health packets she’s sure to send us, if she’s anything like my CMO on the _Enterprise_ ,” Chris chuckles. They stand doing nothing for a little while, still able to feel each other and almost… _revelling_ in it. “We can never be parted.”

“Yes,” Michael agrees with his assessment. Her brow cocks as she realises something, eyes flickering to his arms. _We're_ _going to be isolated in his quarters for a weeks and his arms...well, they’re quite the selling point…_

“I heard that,” Chris points out, but there’s a hint of bashfulness as his gaze flickers elsewhere. Michael can’t imagine people haven’t thrown themselves his way in the past. A hot, adorable starship captain? The line must have been miles long. Michael untangles her grip from around his wrist, finally, only to run one finger solidly down his torso, question in her eye.

“We have until the next shift,” Michael says. Chris turns pink. “Are you shy, captain?”

“Call me Chris, when we’re not on duty,” he mutters, taking her hand and dragging her backwards one step, towards the bed. Then he hesitates, worry in his eyes. “You’re not- I’m not-”

“Not what? Taking advantage?” Michael asks him. “We’re soulmates, Christopher. This relationship is what we make of it.”

“Most soulmates are in love,” he argues.

“They had to start somewhere. We started at mutual respect and built up to trust. You took initiative – came back for me on the asteroid. It’s my turn, I think,” Michael says, before boldly stepping forth, pushing him back towards the bed until he trips, falling. He gazes up at her, eyes wide.

“Have you done this before?”

“Not with someone I know.”

Chris’ cheeks are red and Michael thinks, _what about you?_


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Michael unzips her uniform, watching him the entire time. _Eager_ , she thinks when her eyes dip down, Chris belatedly going to cover the rise in his trousers before thinking better of it and undressing himself. By the time Michael is down to her underwear, Chris has thrown most of his uniform across a chair by the bed.

She climbs on top of him, running a possessive hand through his greying hair and then down his arm, feeling the hard muscle. She feels it flex under her palm as Chris smiles, eyes bright with excitement.

“Take me,” he demands.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “I’m the one in charge here, make no mistake about that, _Christopher._ ”

“I’m your captain,” he retorts playfully, but he willingly sits up at the crook of her finger. Their lips collide and it’s hot and messy, his hands settling on her waist and roaming backwards, dipping down to cup her cheeks.

“Have _you_ done this before?” Michael asks him when they part, his eyes opening slowly.

“I’ve done some things,” he argues quietly. “Just not…not past basics, I’ll admit. I was once with a girl in a hayloft when I was sixteen…but I’ve been focused on my career, since then.”

“So have I and that didn’t stop me from experimenting with what I like,” Michael replies, tugging lightly at the hair on his scalp to curve back his neck, her lips falling to his throat. “Let me treat you.”

“Right,” Chris says weakly, taking in a shuddering inhale of breath. “Yes. Please.”

“We can start slow,” Michael says into his shoulder. “Have you had the yearly shot?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes. Nothing to worry about,” she pushes him back down onto the mattress, kissing down his chest and drawing off the last of his clothes – pale grey boxer-briefs. Briefly, she reconsiders sleeping with him. She’d felt awful in the sickbay, wondering if this now is her attempt at self-comfort. Pollard gave her something, as well, a muscle relaxant of some kind…

“Michael?” Chris calls her name as she spaces out. Michael snaps back, taking him in her hand. He swears and she tugs a little, getting a deep groan out of him as his hands grip her outer thighs. It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling in her grasp.

“I’d prefer to use protection, the first time,” Michael tells him, getting a weak nod out of her captain. Shifting, Michael wipes her hand off on the edge of the sheets, finding his hand without even looking; they know where the other is. Michael could find any part of his body with her eyes closed, she thinks.

Chris sits up as she draws his fingers between her legs. Pressure is slowly building below her belly and taking off her wet underwear, straddling him – Michael _wants_.

“Touch me,” she orders, voice low and rough. Chris tentatively strokes and the contact makes her shiver. She leans forwards, whispering in his ear. “Make me shout your name.”

Chris shudders and he rotates, crooking his fingers at her entrance and drawing it out, up towards her clit. Michael’s spine shifts and she presses up against him, wanting for friction.

“More. More, _please_ ,” she begs and Chris wraps his arm around her back, drawing her up against him. He presses his middle finger up against her and moves it round and round, slowing and switching direction according to the noises Michael makes. Her nails dig into his shoulders and she sucks a bruise on his neck in vengeance for when he makes her collapse bonelessly against him, groaning his name.

“How was that?” he asks quietly, touching her face and drawing her lips against his own. Michael twitches through the aftershocks, reaching down to bring herself out of it easier. “Again? I’m afraid as the older gentleman in the room, my refractory period isn’t so short.”

“You’re not that old, compared to some people I’ve been with.”

“That sounds like a story,” Chris notes.

“Not really,” Michael dismisses, not interested in telling him about it. _My first time wasn’t pleasant,_ she thinks, not realising Chris had picked up on her thought until she’s seeing double again – looking through her own eyes and through his as her captain strengthens the connection.

His brow crinkles with worry. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Christopher,” Michael says quietly, feeling vulnerable as she sits on his lap in only her bra. “Perhaps I’ll tell you when we know each other better.”

Chris keeps her gaze. “But not know,” he says.

“No. We’re not obligated to share every secret we hold,” Michael says.

“No, we’re not. I’d like to share mine with you, though,” he admits to her. “One day.”

“One day,” she repeats, before feeling a growing stiffness against her leg. Michael drags her hand through his hair again, pulling him forwards to kiss her again. Then she growls, “You’re not _that_ old.”

“Take me,” he says again, grinning against her lips. They kiss and they tumble sideways, Chris straddling her, one leg on the floor. “There should be some things in the bathroom. One moment, my dear.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Michael informs him. He grins, giving her a wink before walking his fine ass across the room. Michael watches him, propped up on her elbows.

_Arms, butt…smile. I like where our relationship is headed, so far._

“ _Full stash. Whoever was in charge of restocking my room-_ ” Chris comes out of the bathroom, condoms and lubrication in hand “-really wanted to have sex with the next captain.”

“I’ll tell Saru you appreciated his efforts,” Michael says with a serene expression, cracking up at Chris’ wide-eyed look of shock. At her giggles, he smiles debasingly.

“Should have known. You’re a funny one, Michael.”

“And you’re easy to fool, my Christopher,” she replies teasingly.

He steps closer, eyebrows rising. “ _My_ Christopher, is it? Well, _my Michael,_ I believe we have some business to attend to.”

“That we do,” Michael says, before drawing him down for another kiss.

* * *

Pollard visits them at the end of the work shift, rolling her eyes at the rumpled sheets and taking their readings. Once she’s done, she informs them of the educational pamphlets available to all Starfleet personnel in _Discovery’_ s archives.

“You might want to take a look,” she advises, before glancing between them knowingly. “I’ll have some more contraceptives sent up. You’re both over-due for your yearly shots.”

They blanche in unison.

“What?” Michael demands.

“You’re over-due for your yearly shots,” Pollard repeats. “With your trip to another universe, Commander Burnham, you’re out of sync with the Starfleet calendar. Captain Pike just keeps avoiding sickbay on the _Enterprise_ , apparently – you’ll be having a full-work up done at the end of this week,” the doctor glares at Pike, “with no skipping out allowed.”

“Yes, doctor,” Chris mumbles, still a little in shock. Michael can practically hear his mind screaming, _oh god, the **paperwork** if I knocked up my soulmate only a couple of days into my reign on the Discovery._

Michael decides that’s not happening. “That would be appreciated, thank-you.”

Pollard sighs. “It’s my duty, unfortunately. How Culber dealt with it, I have no idea, but I might foist delivery on Nurse Pyeong, even if I’m the one filling out the stock requests.”

Chris notices her flinch. _Hugh Culber_ , Michael thinks with a certain twinge to her heart. _Ash…_

“I’ll be back at the start of next shift. Eat something, the two of you – but use the replicator here in the captain’s quarters, don’t go out in public where you might Spark with other people,” Pollard instructs.

“Spark?” Chris queries.

Pollard nods, tucking her tablet under her arm. “You’ve been through the metamorphosis of the Fire and now you’re Settling. During the Settling, however, you’re susceptible to Atom Transmutation – you could Spark with anyone and the resulting clash could potentially destabilise your bond from one end and turn you both into vegetables.”

“Right,” Chris swallows. “And I’ve hardly met everyone on _Discovery_.”

“Neither has Commander Burnham, which is why isolation is important. I haven’t Sparked with you and have no intention of doing so. I have enough soulmates spread across the universe too busy trying to stop people like you getting into trouble,” Pollard glares, before taking her leave.

Michael and Chris look at each other, before Michael says, “We should probably read those pamphlets.”

“Agreed.” Chris nods and both of them try to ignore the chilling thought in their minds that Michael might be – potentially be, _hopefully not-be_ – pregnant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[short chapter because i needed a break lol, here you go]]
> 
> One week - and the consequences thereof. New Eden awaits.

**FOUR**

They abstain for three days. In the meanwhile, Tilly sends up Michael’s three-dimensional chess set and Chris stares at in apprehension the entire time she re-teaches him the game; apparently, Spock had tried once and it ended abysmally, when he refused to lower the difficulty level sufficient for a beginner.

“I think he was trying to prove a point,” Chris tells her jokingly. “We had been arguing over my ‘carelessness’ the week before. Strategy games were his haven during rec time.”

“A logical deduction. Spock can be a prissy little shit.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “Language,” he warns lightly, eyes twinkling. Michael chuckles, before moving one of her knights.

“Your move.”

Of course, once Dr Pollard has delivered contraceptive via Pyeong, they let loose a little. On the bed, against the wall, in the bathroom, once – but Michael finds the lights too stark and it’s not like the sonic shower is meant for that, so it doesn’t happen there again.

Pollard herself rolls her eyes every time she comes to visit them and by day six, she’s seen Chris shirtless three times, Michael in only her underwear and once, both of them fully clothed on the sofa when they watched the first _Alice in Wonderland_ movie from the archives – Pollard maintains it’s the most surprising of positions to find them in, considering their other activities.

“It’s not like there’s much to do. You won’t let us work or go to the gym or socialise except through PADDs…”

“For good reason,” Pollard points out, sitting down at the little dining table near the door. She motions them over and, rather intrigued by the change in routine, the two come to sit down beside her. The doctor slides over two separate tablets. “You need to discuss your bond and fill these in appropriately.”

“What…” Michael turns the screen on, scrolling through it. Her voice slows. “Oh. This…”

“You need to fill it out. I know it’s lengthy,” Pollard says, “but coming from someone who has over eight different people out there supporting her and has filled out five other variations written from my soulmates’ home planets, I can inform you that it’s simpler than most. Starfleet has officers who are soulmates, that’s fact; they want to ease the transition, as usually, these things don’t come with advanced planning.”

“I don’t understand,” Chris says, incredulous as he scrolls through the forms and Michael glances at him, wondering how he didn’t know. “We’ve got to- got to what? Legally enter a civil partnership?”

“It’s either that or you file it as non-amorous,” Pollard says testily. “Which you are not and I’m already witness to that. It’s not the same as marriage, if that’s what you’re thinking. Civil partnership in regards to soulmates means if you die, your partner will be informed. They aren’t entitled to more than a message saying you’ve passed and how. According to Starfleet regulation, being spouses is your choice – being in a civil partnership is not.”

“Where I was brought up, they mean the same things,” Chris mutters and Michael shakes her head silently, disagreeing. Chris doesn’t see it, still reading through the forms. They’re a mixture of medical inquiry forms, sub-contracts to their commission with Starfleet compiling addendum waivers related to their behaviour around their soulmates, power inquiries and the big, awful civil partnership signature page that Chris is so afraid of.

“She’s right,” Michael says to him, catching his attention. “Marriage is a choice. This isn’t one.”

Chris goes to refute her, but Pollard clears her throat. “You need to fill those out before I can let you back on active duty. You’re both scheduled for Gamma shift tomorrow with Commander Saru.”

It’s awkward. Day seven is upon them and scheduling them for Gamma shift puts them both past the mandatory hundred and seventy hours of isolation. Michael signs her part of the civil partnership, knowing there’s nothing to be done. They can’t go back to work without filling these things out and Starfleet is her life – Michael is willing to put her pride aside for the mission.

Christopher is not so keen.

“You’ve not even met my parents,” he crosses his arms, glaring out the window to space. Michael sighs comes up beside him.

“We’re not getting married.”

“We basically are.”

“We are not,” Michael replies staunchly, “and if you ever did wish to, then signing a document wouldn’t be enough, not for either of us.”

The tension around his shoulders releases slightly and he looks at her in surprise. “Really?”

“I’m from Vulcan. Marriage is different there anyway,” Michael says to him, sidestepping _Pon Farr_. She’s never going to be affected by that, or Chris, so it’s negligible. “If I was born Vulcan, I would have been betrothed years ago.”

“Betrothed?” He raises an eyebrow in question.

Michael tilts her head. “Vulcan children are mentally bonded to each other in preparation for marriage at the appropriate time.”

“So…Spock is engaged to someone?” Chris blinks rapidly, obviously shocked.

“Her name is T’Pring. I was there, at the ceremony.”

Michael doesn’t know what her words mean to the captain, but he signs the PADD soon after, binding them in civil partnership. She wonders if he has modified his way of thinking – did learning of Vulcan’s ways shift his perspective? Is he trying to honour her second culture? Certainly, Michael could see, vaguely, how he might ascribe their civil partnership instead as a form of engagement.

Oddly enough, Michael doesn’t mind that theory.

When they return to the bridge, it is to a round of applause and some light teasing. Tilly elbows her, face pink, calling her _lucky_. Owosekun giggles, exchanging bright-eyed glances with Detmer. Saru offers his most cordial congratulations on their bonding.

“Thank-you, Commander,” Chris nods, failing to contain his smile as he sits in the captain’s chair. “How has everything been since our… _seclusion?_ ”

“There was one red signal,” Saru informs them. “We have located it and informed Starfleet Command and they requested that we abstain on following it until you returned. As there have been no more signals across the galaxy, they have ordered us to keep with this course of action, though if things had changed…”

“Of course,” Chris nods sharply. “Where was the signal located?”

“With Ensign Tilly’s help, we located the signal in the Beta Quadrant, some fifty-one thousand light-years away, sir.”

Michael sees the expression on Chris’ face and even as he speaks, she smile. “No wonder Command told you to abstain. At top speed, it’s take us a hundred and fifty years to get that far. My unborn children’s kids would be lucky to get there – ideas?”

“The spore drive,” Saru recommends. “But until a nonhuman interface is found, Starfleet has decommissioned it; or its navigator, really.”

“In order to guide us through the mycelial network,” Michael begins to explain, “Commander Stamets injected himself with tardigrade DNA, a violation of Starfleet’s ban on genetic manipulation.”

She sees Chris’ surprise – feels an echo of it in her chest, alongside a spark of inspiration.

Saru continues, “They were willing to overlook this in the war, however.”

“A tardigrade?”

Saru exchanges looks with most of the bridge crew. “I suppose you had to be there.”

“Getting to the bottom of these signals is of utmost importance to the Federation.” Chris says, looking to Michael. “They let you use the drive to fight the Klingons. They’ll give us dispensation now. How long before it can be operational?”

Tilly states, “Once I begin prepping Commander Stamets, twenty minutes.”

“Get to it,” Chris orders.

Going on Black Alert again is liberating. Michael can’t help the smile, listening to Chris’ commentary about going on faith – _a highway of magical mushrooms, indeed_ – and his resulting gasp of awe.

“You never forget your first, sir,” Saru says fondly.

But quickly, they realise something startling.

“There’s no sign of the signal,” Chris sits up, joy fading from his expression as he stands, coming over to Michael, “Are we where we’re supposed to be?”

Michael looks at her station, somewhat unable to believe her eyes. “Affirmative.”

 _A starship,_ she thinks, reading the data. _But it can’t be…_

“Report.”

“Class-M planet,” Michael says, hesitant. “No current power signatures or starships in the area.”

“Current?” Chris asks.

“Sir…” Michael doesn’t know how to explain. Then she sees something else. “There _was_ a starship in the area recently, sir, less than a week ago. There is also something circling the planet, too small to be a moon.”

“Like a satellite? And what do you mean, something was here a week ago? It’s too far out for any Starfleet vessel to have come here at such short notice.”

“The signature of the vessel matches the U.S.S. _Discovery_ , Captain,” Michael breaks the news, a silence falling across the bridge.

“…okay,” Chris says, uneasy. “But we weren’t here – were we?”

“No, Captain,” Saru replies, hands wiggling in anxiety. “An unexplainable circumstance. What of this ‘satellite’, Commander Burnham?”

Michael focuses her instruments on the object. “It appears to be creating its own gravity, similar- no,” Michael stops, “ _exactly_ the same way as the asteroid in our holding bay.”

“This makes no sense,” Chris clenches his fists, “What’s on that planet?”

“No-one is scanning us,” Michael says, clicking away. “Wait. I detect _human_ life signs.”

“No humans have settled this far out in the Beta Quadrant.”

“Sir,” Bryce attracts their attention, unknowingly beginning a new adventure, “I’m picking up a transmission from the surface.”

“Send it through, Bryce.”

**Author's Note:**

> [star trek: discovery discord](https://discord.gg/uaGJqhH)


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